


At Midnight

by stardustsroses



Category: The Grisha Trilogy - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: Alarkling - Freeform, F/M, alina x aleksander, lots of angst too, this has alarkling fluff written all over it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2019-06-18 04:39:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15477867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardustsroses/pseuds/stardustsroses
Summary: The Sun Summoner and the Darkling rule over a Ravka which has seen half a century of war. As they attempt to unite a divided people and end, once and for all, the bloodshed, they both receive a piece of news that will change their lives and the future of their country forever.AU where the Darkles has gotten his shit together and is now married to the one and only Alina Starkov; Mal and Nikolai have passed away.





	At Midnight

At midnight, he was home.  
There was an eerie silence to the Grand Palace that night, more than usual. The chandeliers were too still, the servants too quiet, the air too heavy. Aleksander felt in his bones, in the sinking feeling in his gut as he walked through the golden-rimmed doors. Something was wrong.  
He searched inside himself for that tether that connected him to her – and found the light at the end of the hallway on the third floor, waiting for him. But his heart did not rest. He could not explain that feeling. The moment where he knew something was not right. Through the decades, they had learned to know each other like that, whenever they were apart – searching through their deep-rooted connection to figure out whether the other was alright, safe. They just got better and better at it.  
“Alina.”  
She was on their bed, in a nightshirt, clinging to a letter.  
His wife barely seemed to notice him coming into the room, barely made a sound of acknowledgment. She was too pale. Too…keen to avoid his eyes.  
“I didn’t expect you home so soon,” she said with her eyes cast downwards.  
Aleksander walked to their bed, dropping his folded fur coat on the chair of his desk. He eyed her intently, noticing the dark circles underneath her eyes – not the purple, tired dark circles she used to get whenever she resisted her powers but…a different kind. The worried kind. The king that worried him.  
He stood in front of her, warily watching the letter she clutched with white knuckles and shaky fingers in her right hand. He knelt down, taking her other hand. She flinched.  
“Alina?” He said again, a startled question.  
“I’m sorry,” she murmured.  
His throat closed up. “What are you sorry for?”  
She opened her mouth and closed it several times, still not meeting his eyes. Aleksander touched her chin gently, pulling the stray hairs away from her face, away from her wet cheeks.  
“Alina,” he whispered to her, “why are you crying?”  
His wife closed her eyes, leaning her forehead against his as if she’d lost the strength she had. Calmly, Aleksander wrapped his arms around her frame, sitting on the bed and pulling her against him. He let her cry. He let her tremble.   
And when he asked, he feared for the worse, “Are you…sick?”  
He hadn’t failed to notice the healers coming in and out of her room lately. Strange headaches, she’d simply said to him, leaving a reassuring kiss on his cheek with the words, And an upset stomach. I will be fine.  
“No,” she said quickly, shaking her head. “I…no, not exactly.”  
“Tell me,” he begged her, his voice grave with serious concern, touching his lips to her temple. “Please. You’re frightening me.”  
Alina pulled away from him. A small sob escaped her as she wiped away her tears with the back of her sleeve. “Do you remember…” she stopped, rephrasing, her hands still shaking around the letter. “I mean…yes, of course you remember. I-“  
She looked to him, large eyes narrowing, as if urging him to understand on his own, as if afraid of saying the words herself.  
“I don’t understand,” he said.  
Alina closed her eyes, letting the tears trickle down her face. Aleksander caught them with the back of his finger.  
A century with her, fighting alongside her, sharing his name with her, sharing his everything with her…and he had never seen her like this. He had seen Alina weep herself to sleep after a battle, after the deaths of their people hovered over their minds, but this was different. There was doubt and uncertainty and even fear in her eyes. And he didn’t know what to make of it. He didn’t like it.  
“Aleksander,” she whispered, opening her eyes, squeezing his hand. “I am with child.”  
His first reaction was to look down at her stomach, his heart stopping dead in his chest. Alina parted her mouth, observing him, waiting for his reaction.  
And he had none.  
“Say something,” she pleaded.  
I am with child.  
His child.  
Their child.  
Aleksander looked up. His mind raced with images, with memories. A battle, in what seemed like the middle of nowhere – fire and wind and water and shadow, then blinding light. Gunshots echoing in the summer air, gunpowder replacing the smell of pollen from the wildflowers. The silence, as the last Fjerdan soldier fell to the ground. The tired and bruised Grisha that survived, their people, their family, going back to the tents to get some needed rest.  
And then their own war tent.   
His thoughts consisted of desperate kisses and armour clanking to the floor, clothes being ripped and buttons flying, lost somewhere in the darkness. His thoughts were of his wife, his queen, wrapping her legs around him with her lips on his neck, light and shadows blending together like they belonged, and her voice asking him, begging him-  
Do you remember?  
He did remember.   
No one thinks of pregnancies in the middle of a war field.  
“Are you positive?” He blurted out.  
It was not what she’d wanted to hear, he realized by the way the light in her eyes dimmed. It was not the reaction she’d hoped for. But he could not form any other words in his mouth, could not-  
He could not think-  
“The healer sent me this today,” she said quietly, giving him the letter. “That sickness every morning was not normal. I thought it was the effort of using my powers, but…” she shook her head, staring at her pale hands resting on her lap. “It wasn’t.”  
Silence in the room.  
At first, he didn’t know how to feel. The immediate response to her news was fear.  
He hadn’t felt fear like this in a long, long time. He’d feared for Alina in the war, he’d feared for them when they’d gotten the throne, he’d feared for the possibility of her turning her back on him again. But this-  
Fatherhood.  
He had never thought-  
Aleksander looked at his wife without bothering with the letter. “A child,” he murmured quietly.  
Alina refused to meet his eyes.  
He touched her chin, turning her face to his, but Alina pushed him away. “We should have been careful,” she whispered, almost to herself.  
“It is a gift,” he told her.  
Alina stared at him then. Her eyes swelled with tears. “A gift? To bring a child into a war? You call it a gift?”  
“Alina,” he said, watching as she got up and paced around the room. “Do you not want this child?”  
She stopped and faced him. Doubtful tears spilled on her cheeks as he walked to her, his question hanging in the air. He removed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around her middle.   
There was no other feeling but understanding and patience as he asked her again, “Tell me – do you not want this?”  
She closed her eyes as his thumbs wiped at her cheeks. Alina said, “Of course I do. Of course I want him. He’s part of you, part of me.” Her hands moved to his chest, resting over his stammering heart. “I’m afraid, Aleksander.”  
“Of what, exactly?”  
“This…this war, for one,” she explained. “He will have a price on his head the moment he’s born.”  
“I will not let that happen,” he said, eyes blazing. “We will end this war before-“  
“You can’t be sure we will be able to end it.”  
“I will assure you,” he promised, thumbs caressing the corners of her lips. “No harm will come to our child. Or you.”  
“Or you,” Alina added, clutching his shirt tightly.   
A long silence resumed, save for his wife’s slow breathing against his chest. And then her gentle voice broke it, muffled by his shirt, “Do you want this?”  
He only realized it when he said the words, “More than anything.”  
Alina looked up at him. Gently, so softly, she touched his cheeks and angled his face down so his lips would meet hers. He could taste the salt in her tears, and soon he could taste his own. His wife pulled away to kiss each cheek, lingering near his lips. His hands clutched her waist, keeping her close, as his own body trembled in reaction to everything he was feeling – every emotion between happiness and fear took over him.   
Aleksander angled his head towards her, the mother of his child, and watched the slight, shaky smile on her lips.  
“I’m afraid of childbirth,” she admitted, fumbling with the buttons of his shirt. “Many woman don’t survive it.”  
“You are stronger,” he mumbled to her, touching his lips to her cheek. “If anyone can do it, it’s you, Alina. My Alina. Sun of my life.”  
She rested her head against his chest once more, breathing in his scent. “Promise me we will survive this. Promise me our future is safe.”  
“I promise you,” he murmured into her hair, holding her close. He meant it.  
Even if it was not true – he would make it true.  
No matter what it took him.  
***  
She insisted on fighting with the Shu.  
Alina, whose armour did not show the future growing inside her, eyed the army of soldiers with eyes of fire. He had stood beside her, her king and protector, her husband and equal, and together they had faced them all.   
The guns, the gunpowder, the bodies falling to the ground, the tempest. They faced them all.  
All so the flowers could grow in their future.  
***  
The Shu surrendered.  
On the fifth month, their second enemy rendered its weapons in favour of peace, and Ravka found itself with one battle won. The age of Grisha shined brighter than ever.   
On the fifth month, after the peace treaty was signed, the king and queen announced they were going to give Ravka an heir. The people rejoiced in the news, and the festivities only grew – more twinkling lights were added to the streets that had the smell of fresh bread and pastries in the air, the Ravkan flag blew in the wind atop each house, and the children were allowed to stay outside to play and shout their joy. With the war almost over and the promise of a future for Ravka, the people got on their knees and thanked Sankta Alina and Sankt Aleksander for their gift.  
On the fifth month, he found her in the gallery, watching portraits.  
She stopped in front of a portrait of a prince whose hazel eyes glinted playfully in a dark, sombre background.  
“I miss him,” she said softly without turning around to face him.  
Aleksander came to stand beside her. “He was a good king.”  
“And an excellent friend,” Alina finished. She looked up, and Aleksander felt her knuckles slide idly against his. He took her hand, entwining his fingers with hers. “He would have wanted to be the godfather of our child. Saints only know what trouble he would cause with our little one.”  
He looked down at her and, at seeing all that emotion prickling at her eyes, he leaned in and touched his forehead to hers. Alina smiled sadly, and squeezed his hand. “I hope he’s proud of what we accomplished.”  
“It was the right decision, Alina,” Aleksander said to her as he caressed the back of her hand with his thumb. “As good as a king he was, he was still weak. He knew it.”  
“Giving up his crown wasn’t easy for him,” Alina said, looking up at the prince again. A prince who, in spirit, never got to grow old. “But he trusted us. In the end, when it mattered, he trusted that we would be able to end this war. Bring balance to the world.”  
He said, “We will.”  
Alina smiled. “I believe you.”  
Hand in hand, they closed the door on the past and looked to the future.  
***  
By the sixth month, Alina wanted cake.  
Caramel frosting with strawberries and oranges – that is what she craved. Everyday.   
He watched her eat on their bed, his own fork left forgotten. Her eyes shined in delight, her cheeks rosy and full, her swollen belly covered in little crumbs.  
“You really don’t want some?” She asked him again, looking between him and the half-eaten cake.  
“No,” he smiled.  
“What?” She smiled, chuckling at the way he was looking at her, with that strange playfulness in his eyes that was so rare but, at the same time, so endearing to her.  
“I have never truly seen anyone so happy to be eating cake,” Aleksander mused, adoration in every word he spoke.  
“You’ve clearly never looked at yourself when you’re eating those tarts,” she replied, shooting him a grin.  
Aleksander grinned, his hand sliding up her thigh, “You’re showing more love to that cake than you ever showed for me,” he teased.  
“Your child wants cake,” Alina said, her mouth full. “And so he shall have it.”  
His grin subdued, and it became something softer. His eyes traced the fullness of her middle, the full cheeks and the glowing eyes. He murmured, “He?”  
Alina put down the fork, saying, “I can’t anymore.” And put the rest of the cake on their nightstand, touching her belly. “I see a boy,” she answered, touching her husband’s dark hair. “With your hair. Your skin. Your eyes. Do you think it’s going to be a boy?”  
He leaned in, placing a gentle kiss on her nose. “I see a little girl with brown eyes.”  
“I hope she has yours,” Alina said, frowning. “Brown eyes are dull.”  
“Wherever did you hear that?” Aleksander raised an eyebrow, leaning in closer. “Lies.”  
Her eyes fluttered when his lips touched her jaw. “Lies?”  
“All lies,” he murmured, trailing his lips downward. Alina drew a sharp breath. “They’re the most beautiful eyes in the world.”  
Her lips parted, her eyes closed, when his lips made a trail down to her neck.  
And he pulled away.  
But not before Alina touched the back of his neck, pulling him back to her. “If you’re going to start something, then commit to it.”  
He chuckled darkly, earning himself a smile from her. His lips touched the spot between her shoulder and her neck, his tongue dragging over her skin. The air on her arms raised with goose bumps, his spine tingled beneath her fingertips.  
Alina breathed a sigh and, before he knew it, she had him pinned to the bed. His little Summoner seemed to have an appetite for a lot of things, lately.  
“Alina,” he said under his breath, letting his hands slide up her sides, under her nightshirt. “I have-“  
“I know where you have to go,” she whispered against his neck, lips dragging over his skin. “Don’t go. Stay with me tonight.”  
The army needed leading, his commanders needed orders, his spies needed to hand in their reports. The kingdom needed their king and queen alert, with their eyes and ears opened, ready for any attack that might happen. And yet-  
“Let me,” his wife said, dragging her hands down his chest, unbuttoning his shirt as she went along. Her lips followed her movements, leaving kisses down to the space between his ribs. “I miss you.”  
“You are preventing a king from serving his country,” he said, his lips quirking at the corner as he looked down at her undressing him. He made no move to go.  
Alina grinned as she looked up at him. “No – I am encouraging my husband to serve his wife.”   
Aleksander dragged his hands down her back, and gripped the back of her legs. “And how should I serve my wife tonight, Alina?” He drawled, thumbs moving back and forth on her soft skin.   
“You’re a clever man, Aleksander,” she said, moving to place a kiss at his jaw, and another at his cheekbone, just before looking down at his lips. “You figure it out.”  
His lips spread into a smile, the kind of smile that could only belong to her, could only be meant for her – his light, his sun, his star guiding him back home.  
Aleksander had known back then; when he’d first laid eyes on her, when they’d spoken their first words to each other, and he was certain when those eyes had turned to him. He’d known they were always meant to belong to each other like ashes belonged to flame and rain belonged to clouds.   
He’d always known.  
She kissed him and he saw stars behind his closed eyelids. The brightest kind. Her hands slid up to his cheeks, so warm, spreading light into his skin. He was home. And Saints, he never wanted to leave her arms.  
Every plan he previously had was forgotten, lost in the back of his mind as he kissed her, as he tasted her desire for him. He was quick to rid her of her nightshirt, at the same time as Alina peeled off every inch of armour he still wore – there was no need for it when he was with her. And all that fear, all that anxiousness, all that war still hovering over their heads slipped away like clouds, and it did not come back for the rest of the night.  
He was watching her sleep afterwards, her legs entwined with his, her head on his chest, her hand on his heart. His heart was comforted by her slow breathing. There had been difficult nights where he would wake up with a panicked Alina screaming in her sleep, and it killed him everytime that he could do nothing but hold her and tell her, over and over, that no monsters could get to her anymore.  
Once, he had been one those monsters.  
As he looked at her now, clinging to him even in her sleep, Aleksander knew better than to take this life for granted. He had spent a century redeeming himself in her eyes and yet-  
That feeling was still there. That remorse and guilt and all the terrible things that haunted him at night and the things he thought he would never feel again. But he did. He did, every single night.   
The monster in him was quiet, sleeping, but still there. And even though Alina destroyed that monster and pushed away the darkness a little bit more each day that passed, there was still a part of him that recoiled at the thought of becoming that monster again. Of succumbing to the power, the darkness, again.   
But he knew that he had to become that monster again, one final time, to end this war and keep her safe. Keep his son safe.  
It had been long, too long, since he had summoned that amount of darkness. And as terrified as he was to lose himself again…there was no other choice. He would do everything he could to protect his family. Aleksander would stop at nothing. Even if it meant becoming the one thing he vowed to destroy and to never become again.   
He would become darkness itself and swallow half the world in its wake if he needed to.  
He pushed strands of her hair away from her sleeping face, and watched as she smiled in her sleep. Nothing would hurt her. No one would touch her.  
Alina cuddled closer to him, her naked body warm. Aleksander hesitated only an instant, but then let his palm rest on the top of her belly, feeling that same warmth, that life growing. Life he helped create.  
He hadn’t noticed he was smiling until he found Alina’s eyes open, watching him. Sleep still clung to her, but she smiled. And smiled even wider, though a bit lazily, when he met her eyes.  
“I’m sorry,” he whispered to her gently. “I didn’t mean to wake you, I just wanted to…”  
He wanted to feel his son. Feel the hope that they had created for themselves.  
Alina blinked slowly, and let that lazy smile spread. She took his hand and dragged it further down her stomach, her palm against the back of his hand. She pressed down, and he felt-  
“That’s his head,” she murmured, her voice slightly groggy.  
She was watching his face.  
Aleksander drew in a shaky breath, feeling the contours of her belly, his thumb drawing soothing circles on her skin. His eyes followed Alina’s hand dragging his back up, slightly to the side, and she pressed down once more.  
“This,” she said, “is where his little feet should be.”  
There was a pause. And then Alina gave him a smile full of mischief and angled his hand this way and that.  
“Here,” she whispered.  
“Wh-“ He was about to ask what she meant, but his voice was cut off at the slight flutter underneath his hand.  
He looked at her.  
Alina just smiled.  
“He’s kicking?” Aleksander asked, both in awe and surprise.   
His wife nodded, and said, “Wait.”  
And then there came another. And another.   
All the other times he’d missed that little movement. The little one had a slight case of bad timing, and deemed it right to wake up whenever his father was away. Aleksander would hear Alina tell him how their child had kicked her hard at lunch, making her jolt and spill her plate of soup on the floor, or how she was in the bath and, all of a sudden, out of the blue, there it was – that little kick again and again.  
Aleksander had never felt so much love in his entire life.  
He couldn’t begin to figure out how it all fit in his heart.  
His hand dragged on its own along her belly. “He’s restless,” he noted.  
“Maybe it’s because he hears his father’s voice,” Alina pointed out.  
“Do you think?”  
“He can recognize voices by now – surely. That is what the healers have been telling me. I…” Alina smiled to herself. “I know it sounds silly, but I often talk to him whenever I’m on my own. And he always kicks, as if he’s answering me back.”  
“It’s not silly,” he told her.   
A kick.  
Aleksander breathed a laugh. “Your son seems to agree.”  
Alina leaned in, touching her lips to his. He could feel her smile against his lips, could feel the happiness shine through her. He wanted nothing else but to keep her like this. Smiling. Healthy.  
His hands were on her cheeks, his tongue tracing her bottom lip. Alina sighed into his mouth, but before he could move any further, she pulled back abruptly, startling him.  
“I need to use the toilet again,” she grumbled.  
Aleksander barked a quiet laugh. “I’ll be here.”  
Indeed he was. When Alina came back, is arms were opened, and he welcomed her home.  
***  
By the eighth month, she was uncomfortable.  
The pain on her back was proving to be her biggest challenge, so Aleksander took it upon himself to rub some scented oils along her spine and lower back every night after her bath. These quiet moments with her were the best part of his day. If he were being honest with himself – they were the only good part of his day.  
Pulling her hair back and rubbing the oils gently onto her skin, while Alina rested her head on her forearms, sighing in contentment cleared his mind from everything that was going on. It was like being in a completely separate world with her – a world where there were no wars and they were just a husband and a wife, tending to each other in the late hours.  
“I wanted to be at the meeting,” she said to him that night, her voice muffled by the pillow.   
“I know,” Aleksander said, massaging her skin. “You missed nothing, Alina. You needed rest.”  
“Everybody is treating me as if I’m incapable of walking down a flight of stairs on my own,” she grumbled, shaking her head. “It’s like I’m a child and not a queen.”  
He smiled slightly, leaning in to place a gentle kiss on her shoulder. Her body lay slightly sideways, given the belly, and he had the perfect angle to lower his mouth onto her neck. She sighed, and relaxed against his chest. His thumbs dug into the knots on her back.  
“I don’t treat you like a child, do I?” He said.  
“No,” she argued. “But you’re not very far off from it either.”  
He stopped momentarily. “Is it so wrong for me to want to take care of my wife? I’m just giving you a massage.”  
“You wanted to take me to the bathroom just now, Aleksander.”  
His name on her lips still made him shiver. Aleksander cocked his head to the side. “You were struggling to lift yourself up, I was simply-“  
“Helping, I know,” she said. “I’m just…very big. And grumpy because of it.”  
“It will be over soon, my Koroleva,” he said, his lips at her neck. “Not too long before we have our son in our arms.”  
Alina rolled onto her back then, watching him. She reached over to touch a piece of hair that fell from his forehead, and let her hand drag to his cheek. “Are you excited?”  
He nodded slowly. “Are you?”  
Alina smiled, but it was a shaky smile. “Yes.”  
“It’s alright to be frightened, my love.”  
She paused, filling the silence with a quiet sigh. “I’m more excited than nervous, but…”  
She didn’t need to say it. “I understand,” he told her, his own hand on her cheek now. “I can never fully understand the pain of childbirth. But the fear I can somewhat understand. It will be over soon, Alina. You are strong. You are brave. You will bring us our son.”  
Her mouth spread into a smile, so gentle Aleksander thought he would shatter right then and there. Her thumb caressed his cheekbone, and he watched with a heavy heart as her smile sank slightly. “How did the meeting go?”  
Aleksander swallowed down the answer. “Well, nothing much to report in the borders.”  
Silence.  
And then her whisper, “That is the first time in a hundred years in which you have lied to me.”  
Aleksander stared at her, unmoving, watching her eyes trace his features. Alina wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer. “Tell me,” she asked. “Lean on me.”  
“I have leaned on you for far too long, my love.”  
She shook her head. “I thought we were a team. Equals.”  
“We are.”  
“Then don’t hide the truth from me with the excuse of not wanting to worry me,” she said to him, lowly yet firmly. “I will worry more knowing you’re carrying the burdens of this kingdom on your own, Aleksander.”  
He shook his head, touching his nose to hers and breathing in her scent. He wanted those thoughts gone. These moments – these moments were all he had before…before-  
“I’m your wife,” she said, leaving a kiss on his lips, and another one for good measure. “Your queen, your partner. In the sunshine and in the storm, remember?” Her eyes searched his. “There is so much protecting you can do for us.”  
There was a lump in his throat and he couldn’t swallow it down. Aleksander breathed in and murmured, “The borders have been…tense.”  
Alina paused. “How many dead.”  
“Thirty-four.”  
She closed her eyes, as if she were in pain imagining all that could have gone wrong. Aleksander knew. His wife felt every death as if she had caused them herself. It was in her nature. And as much as it angered him that lives had been lost, he was much more concerned with the tears his wife was blinking back and with the certain pain and sadness that piece of news had brought her.  
“We will make them pay,” she said through gritted teeth. “All of them.”  
“Shh,” he kissed her cheek, an attempt to erase every bad thing from her mind. “Don’t think about it now. What is done is done. We will have our revenge, Alina. We will make them pay. For now – now we have other worries.”  
“I know,” she murmured, shaking her head. “Saints, I know.”  
“Nothing is more important than us, than our child,” Aleksander said, taking her face in his hands. “Nothing. Not this kingdom, not this world, not the stars and this universe. Not the rest of the gods-damned saints. Nothing.”  
Alina stared at him – but she could not blame a father and a husband for his selfish words now. She knew that she would damn this whole country if it meant her child would be safe. Being a leader meant putting your people first.  
But she was a mother before she was a queen. And she was a wife before she was a saviour.  
“We will survive this,” she said to him, eyes meeting his.  
“We will survive this,” he repeated back to her against her mouth.  
He would stop at nothing to ensure it.  
***  
By the ninth month, their commanders told them the news.  
A hundred dead by fjerdan weapons. Both armies had suffered losses at fjerdan hands.  
Alina could barely stand.   
Aleksander helped his wife sit down in one of the chairs, his teeth clenched together.  
“Moi Tsar,” Petrov said with a grim tone. “It is time to fight. We cannot afford any more losses.”  
Alina looked up at her husband with a panic-stricken face, “You can’t fight alone.”  
“Alina-“  
“Moya Tsaritsa,” the old man began, clasping his hands, “You are in no condition.”  
“Leave,” she pointed at the door, her voice shrill even to her ears. Her eyes burned Petrov’s forehead. “Now.”  
The commander bowed and left promptly without another word, shutting the door behind him without a sound. The silence in the room ensued as Aleksander let his palms rest against the marbled table. His head hung low.  
Alina lifted herself up, clutching her belly. “One more month – I beg of you. That’s all I ask.”  
“You will not be recovered in one month after the birth, Alina,” Aleksander reasoned, his eyes set on the table. “You heard the healer.”  
“They don’t know my body – I do.”  
“Alina,” he almost snarled, snapping his head to her. “We can’t leave our child on his own.”  
“You’re right,” she argued. “He can’t be without his father-“  
“Are you so sure I will lose this war?” Aleksander said, pointing at the scattered maps on the table. “Do you doubt me so?”  
“You and I both know we are stronger together,” she said, clenching her fists. “You are immortal, Aleksander, but you are not indestructible. A bullet will still make you bleed.”  
“I will not die.”  
“You can’t be sure!” She shouted.  
“I AM sure,” he shouted back. “Let me go right now and I will end this war once and for all. I will come back to you with peace restored to Ravka. I will make this world a safe place for our son.”  
Alina turned her back on him, palms pressed against her eyes.  
“How will I cope knowing you’re in danger?” She murmured. “How will I be able to stay sitting and waiting while you fight a war that should be fought by both of us?”  
“Alina-“  
“I can’t,” she said, voice breaking. “It’s my responsibility too-“  
His hands were on her shoulders. Alina flinched away, putting distance between them. Her tears coated her cheeks.   
“You responsibility is to our son,” Aleksander said, suddenly breathless, voice low. “Your responsibility, right now, is to make sure I have a life to come back to, Alina. I will not lose you to this war.”  
She turned to him, saw the desperation, the anger, the sadness, the eagerness in his eyes. Alina murmured, “I will not lose you either.”  
“No, you won’t,” he said. “I will end this.”  
“And what’s the cost?”  
He was silent. Alina shook her head, looking up at the ceiling as if that would stop the tears from coming out of her eyes.  
“You will not lose me,” Aleksander said, touching her cheeks. She did not move this time.   
“Promise me you’ll come back. Say you’ll come back to me.”  
He knew she didn’t mean it just physically.   
But he couldn’t promise her that. He didn’t know.  
“I promise,” he lied.  
Alina took the lie anyway. She clutched at his shirt, and touched her tear-stained cheek to his chest.   
They held each other until the sun disappeared and the clouds took its place.  
***  
“I don’t want to miss his birth,” he said to her the night before his leaving, touching his lips to her stomach.   
Alina’s legs rested on either side of his body, while Aleksander let his hands roam her body with idly touches and soothing patterns.  
“I reckon he will take a while,” she smiled slightly, despite everything. Hope was the strongest thing to let go of when it came to her. Alina touched the top of her husband’s head, wrapping her fingers in the thick strands. “I think he will want to wait to meet his father. Stubborn this one.”  
“He’s already taking after you,” Aleksander mused, looking up between dark lashes.  
She shot him a look, but grinned nonetheless. “I can’t wait to meet him.”  
He smiled slightly, touching his lips to her bellybutton. “Neither can I.”  
“Aleksander.”  
“Alina.”  
She paused. And then, “Do you think he will be like us?”  
He looked up at her, resting his arms on either side of her body. His hands made gentle up and down movements on her legs, as he thought about her question. He said, “It’s highly probable.”  
“What if he’s not?” She whispered.  
Because if he wasn’t-  
No parent wishes to outlive his child.  
“Rest your mind,” Aleksander murmured against her skin. His nose skimmed the top of her belly. “He will be like us.”  
Her hands caressed his scalp, and eventually Aleksander rested his head on her chest, hugging her close to his body.  
“We will live a wonderful life, Alina.”  
She watched him watching her.   
Alina touched his cheeks and urged him to lean up. She said, “Kiss me.”  
And she asked him as if it was their last time.  
Aleksander traced her lip with his thumb, like he’d done so many times before, and leaned in close enough to share breath.  
“This is not our last time together, Alina,” he promised her, touching his lips to hers. “I will feel your lips again and have your body against mine once more. I will have your smile and your words. We will have our little one in our arms and we will know happiness.”  
“I love you,” she cried softly.  
“I love you, Alina,” he kissed her between the words, cherishing every taste of her lips. Just in case. “My Alina.”  
***  
The war destroyed him.  
It put him back together in the same moment, as he saw his troops march against the guns, fighting until their last breath. Gun against gun, elements against machines, grisha and otkazat’sya standing side by side, fighting for the same thing, the same cause. Fighting for their future.  
Aleksander searched inside himself for that tether to the darkness. He called out to the monster inside of him, and begged him to answer. In that moment, when he stood watching the faces of his people covered in blood, when he saw fjerdans and ravkans fall to the ground, the only thing on his mind were her words to him, as she came to send him off.  
“I love you, Aleksander. Come back to me.”  
He would come back to her.  
He would meet his child.  
And he would turn this world inside out.  
The darkness was there, deep within him. Quiet yet rooted, forever suspending him and his magic.   
“I love you.”  
“Come back to me. To us.”  
He drew a breath.  
He closed his eyes.  
And the darkness answered. The monster roared, snapping and beating at his cage, raging, begging to be let free.  
Aleksander opened the gates.  
And the world was then made of shadows and nothingness. Screams and blood. Shouts of help and triumph. The sound of wings echoed in the skies, the smell of burning flesh hovering in the air, fire bringing down the trees.  
He let the darkness take him.  
He let it destroy him.  
***  
Four days of bloodshed.  
He was conscious enough to take note of the two bullet wounds in his body. His left leg. His right arm. He was conscious enough to hear the distant screams, the orders being thrown.  
“Get the Tsar!”  
“MOI TSAR-“  
“Get him inside – NOW.”  
“Bring the healers.”  
“The king is down! Get out of the way!”  
He fought against the monsters, but they were so difficult to control. He led them, chose their targets, but in the end he became the target. They fed on him.  
He fought the darkness, but the darkness swallowed him up.  
***  
“Take my name.”  
She’d put down her book, looking at him through thick, dark lashes. Her brown eyes trailed across his features, like a spectator would when presented with a magician: trying to figure out how that trick worked.  
“You have already asked me,” she’d said.   
“You haven’t said no,” he’d said.  
“I haven’t said yes,” she’d said.  
“Alina,” he’d murmured to her, taking her hand.  
He remembered the colour on her cheeks, the sun rays hugging her hair.  
He remembered her words. “You have changed.”  
“I hope so.”  
She’d taken her hand away, crossing her arms over her chest. The library had been empty, save for them. The whole world was empty – save for them.  
There’d been a hint of curiosity shining in her eyes as she’d stared at him.  
“Show me your heart, Aleksander.”  
“You have seen everything.”  
“No,” she smiled. “There is so much I haven’t seen.”  
The weeks had gone by. And he’d asked her again.  
“Take my name.”  
“You have not shown me everything.”  
“Tell me what you want to see.”  
Alina had picked up her belongings, her kefka dragging in the grass as she lifted herself up from the garden bench. “Everything.”  
More weeks had gone by. A spy had made an assassination attempt on the king, her friend. Nobody knew how the Shu had managed to get inside the walls of the Grand Palace. The guards were not blamed. The man had just been too skilled, too clever. Somehow –he’d managed to get too close to them.  
And Aleksander could have stood there, watching.   
But he’d woken up with an odd sensation that day, something he could not place. What Alina had once described as a bad feeling, is what he’d called it. But he’d shoved it away.  
And then it had happened on the throne room.  
Without thinking, Aleksander had raised his hand, and the Shu had fallen to the ground surrounded by a mist of a hundred flapping dark wings. The court screamed and shoved each other, trying to escape, screaming that the Darkling had planned it – the assassination; that he’d planned to steal the king’s throne. The guards had pointed guns at him.   
And then they’d found the gun in the Shu’s coat, the sharp, sparkling blades. They had recognized his face.  
“We had been searching for him for months,” a soldier had said, mouth agape, as the others dragged the Shu’s bloody body out of the castle grounds. “He was the one at the south border.”  
Nikolai had turned to Aleksander, wrinkly eyes narrowing. “You’ve saved me. Why.”  
Aleksander had simply turned around and walked away. He hadn’t known what to say. Because he hadn’t had an explanation as to why. He could’ve let the king die. The throne would be free then for his taking. He could’ve had it all.  
But that part of him had been partly destroyed, and the hunger hadn’t crossed him.  
He’d saved the king.  
And he did not know why.  
She’d come to him then. It was strange – he was always the one who came to her.  
The darkness of his chambers didn’t frighten her.  
“Have breakfast with me,” she’d simply said.  
And so he had.  
For every single morning since that day.  
Months later, when he’d asked her again, he’d expected a simple no.  
Alina had smiled.  
The sun had shined brighter than ever.  
She’d told him, “Do it properly.”  
He did not miss the glint in her eyes, the tremble of her hands. He did not miss the parting of her lips as he’d knelt down on the grass, his hand clutching hers, his forehead pressing against her knuckles. A peasant getting on his knees before his holy saint.  
“Alina Starkov,” he’d said, dragging her hand down to touch his lips to each knuckle. “You are the light of my life. My heart, whatever is left of it, is yours. It belongs to you. It always has, before this world of ours had a chance to be born. Before the stars, before this universe was created. I have belonged to you. I ask you, beg you, marry me. Take my name. I love you. I loved you then. I love you now, and I will love you until justice comes knocking on my door and death takes me away from you.”  
She’d stayed silent for a long time.  
When he’d looked up, she was blinking back tears.  
“Fifty-two years,” she’d whispered to him. “You spent fifty-two years preparing that speech.”  
“I have loved you for longer.”  
“Yes,” she’d nodded, smiling, tears spilling. “Yes, Aleksander.”  
And he had his answer.  
He was home.  
***  
He thought she’d be next to him when he woke up, but his bed was empty. He was confused as to where he was – his wife always clung to him in her sleep. But he was alone, his bed was cold.  
And it remained that way for the five days that followed.  
He’d developed a fever, they’d told him. Unusual, so very unusual, for a grisha. For someone like him. But what he had done hadn’t been ordinary, they’d told him. He had saved them all – Ravka had triumphed because of what the Darkling, their king, had done. That is what the healers said to him.  
Ravka was celebrating.  
The fjerdans had no other choice but to retreat. There was nothing else there for them to take. The monsters had feasted, and the banquet was no longer there. It was over.  
It was over.  
“Moi Tsar,” the healer said as she adjusted the bandage on his leg, tears in her eyes. “Thank you.”  
He nodded, not being able to find his voice. His head was still spinning.  
The woman gave him water, and afterwards he managed to grit out, “The Queen. Tell me of the Queen. What is her state.”  
The healer’s eyes had welled up with more tears and, without a moment’s pause, she told him: “Ravka has an heir, moi Tsar.”  
He had a son.  
“Is she safe.”  
“News travels fast, moi Tsar,” she told him, folding her hands in her lap. “Moi Tsaritsa is healing well from a hard labour. Word from the Palace says both your wife and your child are safe and healthy.”  
He could not believe the relief in his heart.  
He could not believe all that anguish, all that darkness, had left him intact.  
She’d made him come back.  
Somehow, the thought of her, of the future that awaited him in her arms, had made him come back. The darkness had not won.  
“We will move now,” he said to the healer. “Call my commanders, tell them to meet here. They will speak to me of the losses, of the battle, on our way.”  
“Moi Tsar,” she said tentatively, lowering her head respectfully. “It is not wise for you-“  
“Go.”  
The woman left him alone at once, not daring another word.  
Aleksander managed to sit up, wincing.  
A son.  
His son.  
Alina was safe. She had made it through. His sun, the light of his life-  
He closed his eyes, resting his head against the cot’s wooden frame. Aleksander smiled.  
He was going home.  
***  
The losses were bigger than he thought, but that was something to be expected.  
In total, two hundred and thirty-two soldiers, First and Second armies, had fallen for Ravka. The fjerdans would not attack again, his General Commander had told him – not after the losses they suffered.  
“They can’t, even if they want to,” the man had said to him, looking over from his horse. Aleksander attempted to stay firmly seated in his. “They don’t have enough men. The vulcra erased them.”  
There was something biting at him in the back of his conscience. So much death at his hands. But Aleksander remembered his promise to his wife, to his son. That he would see her again and meet his little one. He had kept his promise.  
He just hoped Alina could forgive him.  
You didn’t let the darkness take you, he’d thought to himself. And it was your only choice.  
A hundred years ago, he wouldn’t have thought twice about erasing a field of fjerdan men; he wouldn’t have blinked as the darkness enveloped them, as the sharp teeth of the monsters he summoned bit into the bodies of his enemies. He would’ve felt nothing.  
A hundred years ago he hadn’t known sunshine. And light changed everything, it seemed.  
“Ravka has to thank you, moi Tsar,” his General Commander said once more, lowering his head in a bow. “What you did was the act of a hero.”  
He almost scoffed. Decades ago, his people would have ran from his darkness. And for good reason, too. He still did not know how he’d managed to control the monsters, how he’d stopped them from feeding on his own people. He didn’t know how he lived through it.  
But it was done. And he would not go back to the battlefield – he had a home to come back to now.  
“Does the Queen know I’m alive?”  
“She must’ve received our report by now, moi Tsar.”  
Forgive me, my love – it was the only way. He’d written. Aleksander knew she would hear of the death that ended the war – the death he’d caused with the darkness he’d sworn he would not use ever again.  
There were things still to do to ensure safety. Treaties and threats that would assure that Fjerda would not ally itself with any other nations to strike again. There were papers to sign and destroyed families that needed support.   
But for now – for now Aleksander was coming home.  
***  
The Palace was strangely quiet, but he had a feeling Alina was behind it and that most of the people would be tending to their Queen. Even if the servant’s cheeks were red with joy and their eyes alight with the prospect of a war ended, he still felt anxious.  
Forgive me.  
He’d done terrible things to ensure that moment happened.  
It is done, he told himself.   
And so he stopped thinking. He stopped breathing the moment he walked up the stairs to the third floor and saw the light shining at the end of the hall.  
“Careful, moi Tsar,” the healer said gently, holding on to his arm.  
He could still barely walk, but he made himself say, “You can leave.”  
“Yes, moi Tsar.”  
The healer left him, and Aleksander supported his weight by holding on to the wall. The guards at his chamber’s doors bowed low, and he was surprise to find no fear in their gaze – only gratefulness. He hadn’t known that look from his people for a long, long time.  
He took a breath, passing by the soldiers, ignoring their attempts to help him, and knocked on the door. His heart fluttered and thumped hard on his chest.  
A servant opened it, and the first thing he saw was a rainbow of colours dancing around the room, circling the white walls. A glass mobile hung above the baby’s crib with different shapes of fishes and waves. It spun gently, covering the room in soft, soothing lights of various different colours.  
Her back was to him.  
In those two seconds, he guarded the image of her profile smiling down at their little one that she bounced in her arms, of her pale blue gown, of her pinned back hair that hung in loose curls down her back, of his baby’s long white gown that almost fell down to the floor, the lace around his little neck, the matching bonnet. Remember this moment. Remember this feeling. This happiness.  
And then she’d turned to him.  
“Leave us,” he said to the servant.  
The woman bowed at the waist, and scurried out of the door, closing it gently behind her.  
Aleksander stood there, his arm and leg bandaged, eyes trailing over every inch of his child and wife.  
Alina did the same, eyeing his bruises and bandages.   
“My Alina,” he whispered.  
She walked to him, their child in her arms, and let out a broken sob. Her lips spread into a smile as her eyes trailed all over his face, as if she wanted to remember it – even scratched and bruised; as if they had spent years, and not weeks, apart.  
He looked down at his child. The little one was asleep, face turned towards his mother’s chest.  
“This is your daughter,” Alina whispered, sniffing back tears, her smile widening as she looked down at their child.  
Daughter.  
Not a prince of Ravka – a princess. A little girl.  
His heart clenched in his chest. “A daughter,” he whispered.  
Alina nodded, breathing a laugh. “Yes,” she said. “You were right after all.”  
Gently, his wife took away the little bonnet, showing him a tuft of raven black hair. His hair. She was so small, so beautiful. A miracle. She was a beam of blinding light amongst the darkness.  
He opened his mouth and closed it, a knot at his throat. “My daughter,” he repeated.  
“Come,” Alina said, gesturing to their bed. “Come meet her.”  
They sat down, and he hadn’t failed to see Alina’s eyes on him, attentive to the way he was struggling to move. But it was a conversation for another time.  
“Can I?” He said.  
“Open your arms,” Alina said, holding the baby to him. Carefully, he angled is arms, and at feeling the weight of his baby, his daughter, Aleksander felt the monsters and the darkness slipping away from his mind, scurrying out of his body. The war no longer existed. Nothing existed beyond this, now, here.  
He held her to his chest, letting his lips touch his daughter’s head gently. He breathed a laugh, something that involuntarily came out of him – a burst of delirious happiness.  
“She’s perfect,” he said. “Absolutely perfect.”  
Alina stared, wrapping her arm around his, resting her forehead on his shoulder.  
“Is it really over?” She murmured.  
She had gotten his letter.  
There were a lot of things to discuss, a lot of conversations they needed to have-  
But for now – this was all that matter.  
“Yes,” Aleksander said, touching his daughter’s hand. Smaller than his finger. He smiled, “It’s over, my love.”  
Alina touched his cheek. She turned his face to her, and looked at his eyes. She saw him – she saw he had survived. He had come back. The darkness did not take him. Without another word, she leaned in, and touched her lips to his.  
They were always meant to meet again.  
When she pulled back to look at him, there were tears streaming down his face.  
“I know,” Alina whispered, wiping them away. “I know, my love.”  
Their foreheads touched.  
“I will always find my way back to you,” he murmured to her.  
“I know,” she repeated. “I know you will.”  
“I’m sorry.”  
“There’s nothing to forgive,” she told him, thumb caressing the outer part of his eye. “You did what you had to do. For us. For your daughter.”  
“The last time,” he vowed. “The last time.”  
“Yes,” Alina said against his lips. “No more darkness.”  
They looked down at their baby girl, and Aleksander took a shaky breath at seeing her eyes open. It was not clear yet so soon, but he swore he could see that her eyes were dark. His thumb traced the softness of her cheek, her mother’s lips and nose. His eyes – with Alina’s dark colour. He knew at this early stage her eyes could not focus, and yet he almost thought that his daughter might be looking at him.  
“We agreed we’d name our child after you,” Alina said gently, brushing back her daughter’s tuft of hair. “I thought we could still do that.”  
He looked at his wife.  
“Aleksandra,” Alina said, smiling at him. “Princess of Ravka.”  
He nodded, letting his gaze lower to his daughter once more. He could not stop looking at her. “It fits her, my love.”  
“It does,” Alina mused. “A girl’s name. A princess’ name.”  
The little one stretched out a leg, her little arms wiggling at her sides. Aleksander let out a low laugh, cocking his head to the side. “She…moves a lot.”  
“She does,” Alina chuckled. “She’s a very happy girl.”  
“No crying?”  
“Not much,” his wife said. “But good Saints – does she have a good scream when she’s hungry.”  
“She will love her sweets,” Aleksander said.   
“Just like his father,” Alina smiled, letting her chin rest on his shoulder. Her lips touched his cheek. “Rest today and tomorrow,” she said to him, her hand caressing the other side of his face. “Ravka and politics can wait.”  
“They can wait longer,” he said. “I’m not going anywhere.”  
His daughter grunted, a little strange sound in the back of her throat.  
Alina smiled up at him, “She’s very vocal as well.”  
“Does she sleep well?”  
“So far, so good,” Alina told him. “But let’s not expect it to last.”  
“If she’s anything like her mother,” he shot his wife a grin. His cheeks hurt from smiling.  
Alina shrugged, but her smile told him she agreed.  
Aleksandra fell asleep on his chest after a half-hour of telling his wife everything that happened during the battle.  
He told her everything.  
He told her of the vulcra, of the death, of the blood, of all the terrible things. He told her how he’d won the war. All the while, he had his sleeping daughter sleeping in his arms, and she fit as if she had always belonged there.  
It was a struggle to let her go, even when she cried to be fed. It hurt his heart not to feel her warmth, her softness against him. But at seeing Alina with their daughter in his arms, cooing at her, pulling her close to her chest to feed her-  
It was an incredible sight.  
She did it all effortlessly. As if she hadn’t needed any instruction. The little one quieted down soon enough as she sucked on her mother’s breast.   
Aleksander asked her about the birth.  
“It was…very difficult,” Alina admitted. It was her turn then – to tell him of the pain, of the blood, of the fear of not feeling strong enough.  
“She decided to meet me sooner than expected,” she continued, smiling. “It was around midnight on the twentieth and I thought I would crumble as the pain got worse. But in the end everything turned out alright. And when I first saw her…I wasn’t scared anymore. I was just…the happiest I have ever been when I held her for the first time.”  
Aleksander listened in silence, watching as Alina bounced their daughter in her arms.   
“There were harder days,” his wife said, lowering her voice to a whisper. “Where I would wake up and not feel…up to the task. Or not good enough. Sometimes there was a cloud hanging over me and I didn’t know exactly why. But then she would open her eyes and look straight at me, and sh would make this little noise…” Alina smiled, touching her cheek to her daughter’s head. “And everything was bright again.”  
“I should have been here for you.”  
“There would still be a war going on, Aleksander,” she told him. “You were right.”  
But he’d still felt anguished about missing his daughter’s birth. Of not being there to hold his wife’s hand, of kissing her forehead and trying to ease her pain. He wasn’t there.  
“Someday, you’ll be there,” Alina said simply, as if listening to his thoughts. “If we are blessed again, you will be there.”   
She smiled up at him, and Aleksander leaned in, touching his lips to hers. Alina smiled against his lips, and increased the pressure of her lips on his. A silent I missed you.  
“Welcome home.” She said to him.  
Aleksander breathed for what it felt like the first time in months. And as he watched his sleeping wife and daughter next to him, he thought that all that time ago, all those nights, which he’d spent alone in the shadows…  
He could not have imagined this.  
Before – he could not have pictured it.  
And now he saw it as clear as day, as bright as the sun. That future in front of him, waiting.  
He saw her there waiting for him. Holding his future in her arms.  
And he was home.  
***  
Peace was not easy to achieve.   
Tensions rang high in the Grand Palace when as the representatives of Shu Han and Fjerda sat alongside the Ravkan king and queen on the grand marbled table to discuss the terms of the peace treaty between the three countries.  
It took them hours and a lot of patience for all sides, as well as a lot of calming touches under the table given to him by his wife. Alina would squeeze his hand whenever she felt the anger in him rise, and Aleksander would do well to remember what was at stake there.   
The fjerdans would not hunt grisha. The shu would not experiment on them. And it was declared that no Ravkan born grisha, under no circumstances, would cross either of those territories. It was a strained treaty, and, as rigid and totalitarian as it was, it was the only thing that would prevent more wars from breaking out across the continent.  
The fjerdans exited Ravka with sneers on their faces, but the message was clear: there would be no need for a war if all sides stayed where they were supposed to be.  
The Shu leader asked permission to approach the Sun Summoner. Alina raised a peaceful hand to the guards, and stood with her chin raised high, her expression stone cold. She was several inches shorter than the Shu, but she managed to look down on the man.  
Aleksander tensed visibly as the Shu bowed at the waist. He would take no chances with anyone.  
“May I offer my congratulations,” the man said in a heavy accent, his mouth set in something closer to a sneer than a polite smile. He straightened, ignoring the king of Ravka by the Summoner’s side. “For the birth of your daughter, Sol Koroleva.”  
“My thanks,” Alina simply said.   
“I reckon we will not see her for a long time,” the man continued, clasping his hands. “Not until the nature of her powers is certain, am I right?”  
Alina furrowed her eyebrows.   
“Would you like to add something else?” Aleksander said, cocking his head to the side. Every person in the room knew to take those slow words and that small gesture as a cold threat. “I’m certain I’m not hearing a threat in your words. Am I wrong?”  
“No, you are not wrong,” the Shu said, bowing his head. “My words are simply curious. You might understand, you see, the offspring of a saint and a darkling…it has never happened before.”  
“Our daughter is our concern,” Alina said, her tone defensive. “The world has no right to question what or who she is. She is mine. That is all you need to know. Concern yourself with your broken kingdom and your own offspring.”  
The Shu bowed, lips twitching. This was a game to him. “To peace, Sol Koroleva.”  
Alina didn’t answer. Every inch an iron queen.  
His guards accompanied the Shu to the castle gates. Alina watched from the window, sparks of light fluttering at her fingertips. Her husband didn’t miss the clenching of her fists, the slow breathing.  
Aleksander slid behind her, wrapping an arm around her waist. “Shh,” he said to her, touching her hand. Her light slowly faded into something non-threatening. The warmth was calmer as he touched her, as he rested his chin on her shoulder. “He was just provoking.”  
“I would have killed him right then and there,” Alina said, “if he had dared to threaten my child.”  
“No one would dare to do such a thing,” Aleksander said, caressing her waist. “Let us get back to our daughter now.”  
“Yes,” Alina said, rubbing her forehead. “My head already aches.”  
“A whole day discussing politics will certainly do that to you.”  
Alina sighed, wrapping her arm around his. “Let’s get back to our life now.”  
***  
The four-year-old clung to his neck.  
“AGAIN!” She bellowed, pulling at his hair.  
“No,” Aleksander said, lifting her off his shoulders. “No more, my darling.”  
“Papa, please!” She argued, pursing her little lips. “Show! Show!”  
“Aleksandra-“  
“One more time,” he said, lifting a finger. “And then it’s time for bed.”  
“Two more!”  
“No, one more time.”  
His daughter gave him a look. Aleksander almost laughed – just like her mother. The frown, the little wrinkle on her nose-  
“Yes,” she finally agreed, patting his arm urgently. “Show!”  
“Alright,” Aleksander said, lifting his hand.   
His daughter looked to the wall of her chamber expectantly, and her laughter echoed in his ears as shadows played in the white panelled walls, the shapes and sizes circling the room as if they were dancing.  
Aleksandra clapped her hands, and raised her arms trying to catch the small cloud-like shadows his father was making.  
“Papa! Look!” She pointed. “Dog! Dog! I want!”  
He smiled at her, kissing her temple, “Alright, alright.” He conjured the shape of a dog, shaping the shadows accordingly, and the sound that came out of the little one delighted him. The simple happiness of this gesture on his daughter’s face was everything to him.  
“Oh! Where he gone?” She placed her little hands over her mouth in surprise.   
Aleksander lowered his hand, and the shadows disappeared with him. “He went to sleep, darling. And so shall you.”  
“Oh,” she grumbled, holding on to her father’s neck as carried her off to bed.  
“We will play tomorrow, sweetheart, it’s very late.”  
He pushed the covers up to her chest, tucking her in. “Papa,” she said. “Can you teach me?”  
“What, darling?”  
“The dogs,” she explained, clenching her fists like she saw her father do before. “Can I make the dogs?”  
“One day,” her father said, smiling to himself.   
“Will they be like yours, papa? Or like mama’s?”  
“We will see, my darling. We will see.”  
Aleksander stayed, telling her the story of the dog who slept in the dark clouds, who was always warm and feared nothing in this world. Soon enough, his daughter’s eyes shut, and her breathing slowed.  
Even then he stayed.  
He looked at the blessing in front of him, and smiled to himself once more. He found himself doing that a lot.  
“Goodnight, darling. Sweet dreams.”  
Alina was still waiting for him under the covers of their bed, a book in her hands.  
“She’s asleep,” Aleksander said.  
“Are you certain?” Alina gave him a smile. “Last time she was too good at pretending and we found her in the kitchen pantry. Remember that?”  
He let out a laugh under his breath. “I do. She’s asleep, love.”  
“Come here, then.” His wife held out her hand to him.  
Aleksander took it, dropping his fur robe on the end of the bed and sliding underneath the covers. He pulled her close, and then stopped.  
And looked down.  
Alina smiled at him, her cheeks pink.  
He looked up at her, his lips twitching at the corner. His wife was already undoing the buttons of his nightwear. Aleksander traced the contours of her thigh, sliding up to her hip and waist, his thumb caressing the underside of her breast. Her naked body was scalding against his touch.  
Alina smiled against his mouth when he caught her lips, and was quick to undo the rest of his clothes. Until they were bare for each other.  
Her hands caressed his cheeks as she pulled back. “I love you.”  
“I love you,” he said, nudging her nose with his.  
Alina opened her arms and he climbed into them, parting her legs.  
Her little gasp always make him shiver, no matter how many times he heard it.  
He felt her tugging at his hair in the back of his head, felt her urgency for him falter a little bit. He peeled his lips from her neck to look at her. She bit her lip.  
“What do you want?” He smiled, tracing her lip with his thumb, pulling it back from her teeth.  
She hesitated, and then smiled wider. “I want us to try again.”  
He paused, touching her cheek, caressing her skin. “You do?”  
“Imagine a boy this time,” Alina said, kissing his chin. “Or another girl.”  
He did. He imagined it all.  
“That,” he said to her, touching his lips to the corner of her mouth. “Sounds like a wonderful life, my sun.”  
Alina smiled. “It does, doesn’t it?”  
And it was, truly.  
***  
The boy and the girl ran in the gardens, shouting at each other, pushing at each other’s shoulders and scaring the birds.  
“Careful,” Aleksander raised his voice, raising his chin to look at where they were going. “Aleksandra, you will blind your brother-“  
“Let them play,” Alina chuckled, wrapping her arms around his middle. “She can’t blind him.”  
“You don’t know that,” Aleksander said, but a smile threatened to show. “Don’t you remember that one time he made her trip in the hall?”  
“That’s just brother and sister banter,” Alina gestured carelessly. “His shadows are harmless.”  
“Alina, she banged her head on a wall.”  
“And we grounded them,” she reminded him. “They learned their lesson.”  
“Did they?” Aleksander snorted, watching his children with half-closed eyes. “Take a look.”  
Alina gasped, unwrapping herself from her husband and walking down the stairs to their children. “Nik!” She said sternly. “Stop that now, what did I tell you?”  
The boy giggled behind his hand, “She started it!”  
“I told you mama would get mad,” the girl said, smirking.  
“Stop it – both of you. Go play with something else and be careful.”  
“Yes, mama.”  
“Nik,” Alina said, hands on her hips.  
The boy looked at his shoes, suddenly embarrassed to be scolded. “Yes, mama.”  
“Careful now,” she warned again.   
Aleksander watched from a distance as they ran through the gardens, their laughter echoing. The servants stood back as those two forces of nature slipped past.  
He watched the smile on his wife’s face, the shaking of her head as she walked back to him.  
Remember this moment. Remember this feeling.  
Aleksander took the sunshine into his arms, tucking her into him, and he leaned down and touched his lips to her forehead.  
“A wonderful life,” Alina murmured, closing her eyes when the sun hit her face.  
Aleksander smiled, letting the light in. “A wonderful life,” he agreed.  
And it was. Truly.  
THE END.


End file.
